


a kind of homecoming

by foxiea



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Hallucinations, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sheith if you squint, Supportive Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 06:36:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13071177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxiea/pseuds/foxiea
Summary: "When Shiro’s eyes settled on the small tube of eyeliner, he felt his lips tug at the corners of his mouth.  It was a strange thing, remembering how to smile."Shiro tries to return to familiar routines after escaping the Galra.  Keith tries to help.-For the prompt: eyeliner.





	a kind of homecoming

There’s a small mirror in the bedroom of Keith’s desert shack.  Shiro brushes a finger against the dusty glass surface, and cringes at the grating sound that follows.  He switches to his flesh hand; it cleans the dust away far more easily.  

Shiro looks at his reflection.  He’s never been particularly concerned about his appearance (beyond presenting himself neat and tidy), but the sight of his sallow skin and dull eyes is almost enough to make him wince.

Keith helped him bathe early that morning; while the sun was still low in the sky and the other cadets that helped rescue Shiro were still fast asleep.  When the water pooled around his thighs in the tub, it made him shiver.  Keith whispered reassurances to him as he drew the soap into a lather against Shiro’s skin and wiped it away afterwards with a wet cloth.  He massaged suds into Shiro’s scalp, and Shiro enjoyed the pleasant feeling of Keith’s blunt fingernails against the sensitive skin.  The water was a dull grey colour by the time they finished.  Keith said nothing about his scars.

He steered Shiro back to the bedroom afterwards, set a few things down next to him, and then gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.  “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

When Shiro’s eyes settled on the small tube of eyeliner, he felt his lips tug at the corners of his mouth.  It was a strange thing, remembering how to smile.

Shiro raises the wand to his face with an unsteady hand, leaning in close to the mirror.  He tilts his chin up, and does his best to relax his face muscles.  The brush of liquid against his eyelid is a familiar comfort.  He fills in a thin line from the inside of the lid to the outer corner, then dips the brush back in the tube.  When he looks to the mirror again, his reflection is staring back at him with yellowed eyes, lips parted in a toothy grin.  Shiro startles, and his fist is through the glass before he even knows what he’s doing.

The eyeliner falls from his hand, spilling inky black liquid onto the light wood flooring.  

There’s a ruckus on the other side of the door, the groan of moving furniture and the heavy plod of footsteps.  

“What happened?” an unfamiliar voice asks, laced with worry.  “Is he okay?”  The door rattles.  

“ _Lance_.”  Keith warns.  _Lance_ , Shiro doesn’t recognise that name.

More footsteps.  The door opens just enough that Keith can squeeze through, but Shiro doesn’t miss the sight of a boy with curious eyes behind him.  Keith closes the door to a whine of “Oh, _come on_ Keith!”, but he ignores it, and props a chair beneath the handle for good measure.  When Keith turns to face him, Shiro looks away.  

Keith’s fingers are feather-light against Shiro’s flesh arm, and when Shiro does not shy from the contact, Keith says, “Hey.  What’s the matter?”  

Shiro doesn’t know what to say to him, how to explain what he saw in the mirror without sounding crazy.  “I’m sorry,” he says instead.  He clenches his fist, and winces as small pieces of glass crunch between the metal parts.  

“Don’t be,” Keith says, completely sincere.  

“The mirror,” Shiro objects, but Keith cuts him off with a scoff.  

“I care more about you than a stupid mirror,” he says, with a pointed look.  Shiro can’t argue with that.

Keith bends down to retrieve the fallen eyeliner.  He reaches towards Shiro’s face slowly.  The pads of his fingers ghost over the the skin just beneath Shiro’s eye.  “You didn’t finish your wings,” he says.  

“No,” Shiro whispers.  Keith searches his eyes for a moment.  

“Would you like me to do it for you?”  

Shiro nods.  “Yes, please.”

“Sit down,” Keith instructs, and Shiro obeys, planting himself on the edge of the bed.  Keith’s fingers tap beneath his chin, and Shiro tilts his head back.  His eyes flutter closed.  Keith’s hand is soft where it settles against his cheek for purchase, and Shiro thinks he has missed being touched by someone who is not trying to experiment on or kill him.  

“There,” Keith says when he’s finished.  He holds up a shard of the shattered mirror, long enough that Shiro can see both eyes at once.  “How’s that?”  

The wings are uneven, messier than Shiro’s usual precise stroke.  “It’s perfect,” he says.  He looks at Keith in earnest.  “Thank you.”  

Keith gives him a soft smile, and takes Shiro’s metal hand in his own.  “Now sit still while I clean out this glass.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Find me on tumblr](http://foxieafic.tumblr.com/)


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